Classified
by Lament
Summary: NCIS locks horns with the CIA over a case. Chapter 6 is up.
1. Classified

Title: Classified

Disclaimer: They're not mine.  I'm not making any money.

Author's Notes:  This chapter has Tony/Kate undertones, but I don't know where we're going to wind up.  Maybe Tony will get the girl.  Maybe he won't.  Maybe he doesn't want what he thinks he wants any way. I don't know. I'm letting the characters lead me where they want to go. : D

Chapter 1

*****

"Idiots!"

Gibbs is a little irritated.  Of course, that's not uncommon.  I'm just glad he's not irritated with me.

Jumping up from my desk, I sprint over to Gibbs.  "Agency not cooperating, Boss?"

"They're a bunch of self serving…" Gibbs trails off, trying to get his temper under control.  "So much for inter-agency cooperation."

"Yeah."  I nod in agreement.

We've been working on the murder of a Marine found dead in Alexandria.  Everything seemed normal about him (except for the fact that he had been murdered) until we noticed that about two years ago, his file started missing a lot of information.  There were times that nobody really seemed to know what Major Allen Pickett was up to.  And nobody seemed to care.  

And nobody seemed to care what he was doing in Alexandria the night he was killed.

So, we started digging a little deeper, and finally found one of his fellow Marines who suggested that Major Pickett might have been on loan to the Agency.  The man was pretty vague, but the vacancies in Major Pickett's record, along with the general lack of knowledge all of his so-called friends had about him, seemed to confirm that Major Pickett might have been living a double life.

"What did they say, Boss?"  I ask.

Gibbs exhales.  "They said that they can neither confirm nor deny that Major Allen Pickett ever worked for the Agency."

I grin.  "So, he definitely worked them, huh?"

"Pretty much."

"So, what now?"

Gibbs leans against the nearest desk.  "Now, Tony, we keep rattling cages until we get answers."

"Cool."

"Hey, guys!"  A cheery voice says. 

"Kate, you're back from Williamsburg," I say, grinning.  

"And you're observant," she teases.

Kate went to Williamsburg to interview Major Pickett's girlfriend.  She's a grad student in History at the college there.

"Any luck with the girlfriend?" Gibbs asks.

She frowns.  "She's a mess, Gibbs.  The poor thing."

Kate tends to get emotionally involved with victims, witnesses, and even suspects.  It's one of the things I love about her. 

"Did you get any information?"  Gibbs prods.

"Nothing much.  Just that he's been acting strange.  The last time he visited, he was paranoid.  She asked him if something was wrong, and he said he couldn't talk about it."

"So," I say.  "He was on a case, and it got too heavy?"

Gibbs nods.  "Or maybe he knew something he shouldn't have, and somebody wanted to shut him up."

"Did the Agency give us anything?"  Kate asks.

"You're on a need-to-know basis Agent Todd," I grin.

Gibbs shoots me a look.  I guess he's irritated with me after all.

"We got stonewalled, Kate," Gibbs says.  "No surprise."  Letting out a breath, Gibbs turns toward his office.  "You two keep digging."

*****

I lean back in my chair and stare at the just-hung-up phone.  Another dead end.  Letting out a breath, I reach up and start to knead the muscles in my shoulder.  

"You all right?" Kate asks casually.  

"I slept wrong," I say.  "You have some aspirin or something?"

"Yeah," she says.  "Hang on."  Kate digs around in her purse for a while, mumbling something inaudibly.  Then she holds up a bottle, shakes it, and says, "Ah-ha.  Knew these little buggers couldn't hide from me." 

Kate walks over to my desk, hands me a couple aspirin, and then walks around behind my chair.  Her perfume drifts through the air as she moves.  She smells great. 

My muscles tense involuntarily when I feel her hands touch my shoulders.  She hesitates for a moment, and then starts to rub my shoulders and neck.

"You're a bunch of knots back here," she says.

I lean into the massage.  Briefly, I think about making some kind of joke about Kate using my sore muscles as an excuse to finally get her hands on me, but I figure she'd cut the massage short, and it feels too good to lose just for a snarky comment.

"You making any headway?" I ask, closing my eyes.

"Not so much.  You?"

"Nothing."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs' voice ends our conversation. "When Kate gets done with your spa treatment, I want you check Major Pickett's phone records."

"I'm on it, Boss.  How far back?"

Gibbs stares at me, his face devoid of expression.  But I'm pretty sure he's still irritated with me.  "Three months."

"Still no luck with the Agency, Gibbs?"  Kate asks.  

_That's good, Kate_, I think.  _Remind him why he was in a bad mood in the first place_.

"Nope," he says shortly.  

Kate stops rubbing my shoulders and walks to her own desk.  She bites her bottom lip, like she's trying to remember something.  "You know," she says.  "I used to date this guy.  Our jobs conflicted with us having a real relationship.  And we were better friends, anyway…" She trails off.

"Your point?" Gibbs says brusquely.

"I wonder if he could help."

Gibbs shakes his head.  "Kate, unless CIA, I seriously doubt it."

"Well, he is," she says matter-of-factly.

I sit up in my chair.  "Are you telling us your ex-boyfriend is CIA?"

She tugs at her bottom lip.  "Well, he's more of friend.  We just tried dating a couple of times."

"Are you saying your _friend_ is CIA?" I ask.

Gibbs exhales loudly, getting both Kate and me to give him our undivided attention.  "So," he says impatiently.  "You're saying you have a contact at the Agency, and it didn't come up during all those other times we could have _used_ a contact at the Agency."

I smile slightly.  Gibbs is irritated at Kate now instead of me.

"Well," Kate says slowly.  "It didn't occur to me.  I mean, he's a friend.  I don't think of him in terms of his job."  She shrugs sheepishly.

'Are you on good terms with him?" Gibbs asks.

She nods.  "We haven't seen each other in a while.  We were supposed to have lunch a couple months ago, but I had to cancel.  He canceled the time before that.  But yeah, we're still friends.  And he's been known to work with the Navy once in a while…"

"Call him," Gibbs says.


	2. Agent Wonderful

Title: Classified

Chapter 2

*****

"This is useless," I say, laying my head on my desk.  

I've checked Major Pickett's phone records.  Not for the last three months.  No.  Gibbs changed his mind, so I checked them for the last _six_ months.  He called his girlfriend regularly.  He didn't call his mother nearly enough. He ate a lot of pizza.  And he called to make an appointment to take his car in last week.  He was boring.  

And the saddest part of it is that if somebody knocked _me_ off, the poor guy stuck investigating mydeath would find out that I'm just as boring as Major Pickett.  At least he had a girlfriend.

I let out a breath.  "Why me?"

Just then, I get the sensation that I'm being watched, and so I lift up my head.  I find myself looking up at good-looking, well-groomed man. He's dressed in a three-piece suit and has a cell phone in one hand.  Plus, he has a cocky grin plastered all over his face.  I'm guessing this is Kate's non-boyfriend.     

"Can I help you?" I say.

He laughs lightly.  "I didn't realize the NCIS had nap time.  Don't let them know over at JAG, or they'll have to have it, too."

Yeah, he's cocky and overconfident.  Definitely Kate's type.

"I'm looking for Caitlin Todd," he says curtly.

I decide to have a little fun with him. "Who's asking?" 

He raises both eyebrows and smiles.  "_I'm_ asking."

"Can I see some ID?"

"Tony!"  Kate swoops up beside us.  Glowering at me, she turns her attention to our visitor.  "Clay!  It's so good to see you."

"C'mere," he says.

After they embrace, Kate takes a step back and looks Agent Wonderful up and down.  "You look great!"

He looks all right.

"Thanks," he grins.  Then he looks at me like he's just remembered I'm here.  He gestures to me and says to Kate, "This is Tony?"  

"Yep," she says.

He narrows his eyes at me, and then shrugs.  "I guess you're right," he says.

Kate nods.  "Told you."

"What?"  I ask.  

"Come on," she says, tugging Clay by the wrist.  "Let me introduce you to Gibbs."

"Wait a second," I say.  "What did you tell him?"

"Never mind," she says.

"Kate!"  I jump out of my seat and hurry over to them.

It occurs to me that she might just be messing with me.  Licking my lips, I smile and try to turn the tables on her.  "So, you've been telling him all about me, huh?  I didn't know you thought about me so much."

Clay laughs out loud.  "You weren't kidding, Caitlin."

At that moment, Gibbs' office door opens and Gibbs emerges in the doorway, looking annoyed.  "What the hell's going on out here?" 

This is good.  Gibbs'll wipe the high and mighty smirk off this guy's face.

"Gibbs," Kate says cheerfully.  "We were on our way to see you."

Gibbs nods.  "Is this your ex?" 

She stands up straight.  "This is my _friend_.  We only dated a couple of times."

I snicker, and glance sideways at Clay.  

He catches my gaze, leans in, and whispers, "That's two more times than you."

I feel my cheeks begin to burn, so I avert my eyes.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs," Clay says, holding out his hand.  "Clayton Webb."

Gibbs narrows his eyes.  "I've heard the name," he says slowly.

I take a step forward.  "I thought spies were supposed to be sneaky," I say dramatically.  "How has Gibbs heard of you?"

Clay shrugs and turns to Gibbs.  "Kate tells me you need information."

"Yeah," Gibbs says, exhaling.  "Why would you be inclined to give it to us?"

Kate makes a slight choking sound.  "Gibbs, come on.  You don't have to be confrontational."

"I'm sorry," he says brusquely.  "I haven't had the best of luck with the Agency."

Just then, Clay's cell phone goes off, and he theatrically flips it open.  "Excuse me, Agent Gibbs.  Webb."  He grimaces.  "Oh, for God's sake.  What do you want _now_?"

Gibbs crosses his arms, looking more aggravated by the second.

Clay starts to pace.  "I'm not a fast food restaurant!  You can't just shout into a clown's mouth every time you want something."  He angrily snaps the phone shut and turns back to Gibbs like nothing happened.  "My apologies.  You were saying?"

Gibbs considers him for a minute, disappears into his office, and then returns with Major Pickett's file.  "We're investigating the murder of a dead Marine.  We think he might have been CIA."

Clay takes the file from Gibbs, barely glances at it, and then tosses onto a desk.  "I'm not at liberty to say."

Taking a step toward Clay, Gibbs says, "Don't you people get tired of sounding like a broken record?"

Straightening his tie almost violently, Clay says, "I'm sorry national security is an inconvenience to you."

Gibbs tightens his jaw.  "And I'm sorry we bothered you."

Clay leans in and kisses Kate on the cheek.  "I'll call you tomorrow, Caitlin."

"Clay, come on," she pleads.

"I'm sorry," he says, walking away.  When he reaches the elevator, he stops and just stands there without pushing the button.  After about forty-five seconds, he slowly turns around and walks back to us.  Scowling at Gibbs, he says, "Give me the damn file."

Gibbs looks mildly surprised, but he hands Clay the file.  

Clay flips through the papers.  Biting his bottom lip, he hands it back to Gibbs.  "He was ours."

"What else can you tell me?"

Clay runs a hand through his hair.  "He was one of mine.  He was supposed to meet me, but he never made it." 

"What was he meeting you for?" I ask.

Clay glances over his shoulder at me.  "That's classified."

I frown.

"I mean it," he says.  He looks at each of us.  "I can't tell you everything.  I really can't."

"Is it possible that he was killed because the mission you were on?"  Gibbs asks.

"It's always possible Agent Gibbs."

"What aren't you telling us?" Kate asks, putting one hand on Clay's arm.

"Countless things."

"But there's something specific."

Clay looks suddenly uncomfortable.  "All I can tell you right now is that . . . I hope I'm wrong about why he's dead."


	3. Contact

Title: Classified

Chapter 3

*****

"Kate," I say.  "Is he always this dramatic?"

The "he" in question is Clayton Webb, formerly Kate's non-boyfriend, currently our contact at the CIA.

Clay spins around to face me.  "You don't know a damn thing!"

Kate puts her hands on Clay's shoulders.  "Easy, Clay," she says.

His breathing is labored.  I can't tell if it's because he's freaked about Major Pickett's death, or because he's mad at me.  He inhales deeply, and then lets out a long breath.  Running one hand through his hair, Clay lurches into a chair next to Kate's nearby desk.

"You have to understand," he says, his breathing steadier now.  "Allen is gone.  And that's . . . unfortunate."  His voice cracks on the last word.  Then he lowers his voice. "But there are other lives in danger."

Gibbs sits down on the edge of Kate's desk.  "Then it would be prudent to solve this murder."

Clay shakes his head in frustration.  "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Clay," Kate says quietly.  "We're all on the same side."

"I don't doubt that, Caitlin," Clay says. "But there are things that I can't talk about.  I'm not stonewalling you because I have nothing better to do."

I think about saying something snarky, but I keep my mouth shut.

Leaning back in his chair, Clay regards each of us, as if he's trying to read our minds.  He looks like he's about to open his mouth when his cell rings.

"Excuse me," he says.  "Webb."  Licking his lips, Clay shifts in his chair.  "Yeah," he says.  "I know."  He pulls himself into a standing position, and then walks across the room, out of earshot.

Gibbs looks at Kate.  "You think he's going to help us?

Kate nods.  "If he can let us in the loop, yeah."

In a moment, Clay returns, looking more irritated that flustered.  He gestures for us to come close.  "All I can tell you right now," he says.  "is that Allen was working on something . . . extracurricular for me."

"You weren't on Agency business," Gibbs says.

Clay glances to the side.  "Well, not officially."  Straightening his tie, Clay moves to leave.  "I'm sorry I couldn't be more help."

"Sadik Fahd," Gibbs says suddenly.

"What?" Kate and I say simultaneously.

He points at Clay. "That's where I've heard your name.  In connection with Sadik."

Clay raises his eyebrows, and something akin to respect passes over his face.  "You must have some contacts of your own if you know that."

They stare at each other for a moment, then Clay turns to leave.  "I'll be in touch," he says.  "Right now I have to babysit a Navy lawyer."

*****

I really don't know what we've gained so far, but Gibbs seems a little more content—content for Gibbs, anyway.

Kate and I are checking Major Pickett's computer records, which, as it turns out, are as boring as the phone records.  The guy had three country music websites bookmarked, and he was a frequent visitor to the official Fishing Network website.  

. . . I'm bored . . .  

I glance around to see if Gibbs is in the area.  He's nowhere to be seen, so I pull off the cap of my pen and pitch it at Kate, who is bent over a pile of papers.  The cap lands on the top of her head.  Instead of falling off, it just sits there.  Kate reaches up and rubs her head, knocking the cap to the ground.

"Tony," she says, sounding aggravated.

I grin.  "Hi."

She sighs wearily.  "Tony."

"I lost my cap," I say.

She bends over, scoops up the cap, and hurls it at me.  

Right about then, Gibbs walks by.  "Oh, come on, Kate," he says.  "Grow up."

"Yeah," I smirk.

She glares at me.

I don't know why, but she's my favorite person in the world to irritate.  I lean back in my chair and smile at her.  She's still glowering at me, but she'll get over it.  

"Do you miss him?" I ask.

  
She looks at me with a blank expression.  "Who?"

"Your non-boyfriend."

"Oh, for God's sake, Tony."  She stands up and walks briskly across the room.  I don't think she's going anywhere.  I just think she wants to get out of answering the question.

"Oh, Kate," I say in a sing-songy voice.

She turns around.  "I don't miss him, because I see him socially.  We. Are. Friends."

"Okay," I say innocently.

She walks over to me.  "Jealous?"

I grimace.  "He's not my type," I say.

Gibbs, who has been on the far side of the room, ambles over to us.  "Oh, I don't know, Tony," he smiles.  "He seems nice."

I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.  I really dislike it when they gang up on me.

To be honest, I _am_ a little jealous.  It's not like I'm in love with Kate or anything.  Even if I was, it could never happen.  Gibbs would go ballistic if one of us dated another team member.  Besides, I think Kate has a crush on Gibbs. 

But then, who wouldn't?


	4. Attention

Title: Classified

Chapter 4

Author's Notes:  I have this story 90 percent planned out.  But like I said in the first chapter, I still haven't decided who, if anyone, Tony will wind up with.  *taps fingers on her computer desk* What to do, what to do . . . 

*****

So, far this been a bad, bad day.

First, my car died on me.  It's been threatening to do so for a while now, but today, it finally breathed its last.  So, I called Gibbs to let him know I _might_ be late.  

And so, he decided to pick me up himself.  That I could've lived with.

But while I was waiting for Gibbs, I decided to hang a picture my mom sent me, and somehow, I managed to slice my hand open on a nail.  I bandaged it all up (and did a pretty good job, I thought).  Gibbs took one look at it, ripped off the bandages I apparently "just threw on."  Then he insisted on taking me to the emergency room to get stitches because "Kate will kill us both if you get an infection."  

Consequently, both Gibbs and I are a half and hour late to work.

Kate walks over to meet us as soon as we enter the office.  "Where have you guys—oh my God.  Tony, what happened to your hand?"

"Well," I say, about to weave an exciting tale.

Until Gibbs interrupts, "He lost a battle with a nail."  And then he adds as an afterthought, "While trying to hang a picture of a horsey walking through autumn leaves."

Kate laughs a bit too loud.  

"It was a present from my mom," I say defensively, my cheeks starting to burn.  Scowling, I inquire, "Hear from Mr. Drama?"

Kate casts me a weary look.  "No, not yet.  We'll hear from him eventually.  I think he likes Gibbs."

Gibbs smiles slightly.

"What?" I say.  "Because they bonded over whatshisname?" 

"Sadik Fahd," Gibbs says.  "He was a monster."  

"Well," I say.  "I hope Agent Wonderful pans out, Kate."

Kate turns away, but I can hear her chuckling.  

"It wasn't that funny," I say.  "Lots of people have autumn equestrian scenes."

"That's not what I was laughing about," Kate says.  She looks at me with a bright smile on her face.  "It's just . . . you remind me a little of Clay."

"What?" 

"Not exactly.  But you could be his little brother."

I glance over Kate's shoulder at Gibbs, who is fighting a smile.

"I'm like his little _brother_?"  I say.

"Yeah," she says sweetly.  "You're a lot alike.  You're both insecure, but you try to mask it with bravado."

"Now, wait a sec," I snap.  "I am _not_ insecure.  And what you mean by bravado?"

"Well," she shrugs.  "He uses sarcasm and work to hide his lack of self-confidence.  You use humor and flirting."

 "What?"

"Come on, Tony," she says. "You like to be the center of attention, so you make jokes and hit on anything that moves."

I stare at her, open-mouthed, then I walk over to my desk.  My mind searches for a snarky comeback, but I can't think of a thing.  The problem is, she's right.  I _do _like attention.  I love it.  That's why I like to flirt.  Instant gratification.  

I'm probably the biggest flirt in the room.  But ironically, I probably have the lousiest social life.  I can turn someone's head, but after that . . . I have no clue how to act.

So, Kate's right.  And that's why it hurts so much.

"Tony," Kate says, walking up to me.  "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say, flustered.  "I'm fine."

She puts her hand on my shoulder.  "I was teasing," she says.

"I said I'm fine," I snap.

Gibbs, who has been watching the whole time, decides to intervene.  "Katie," he says. "I want you to talk to the Marine we spoke to earlier.  The one who put us on to the Agency.  I want to know more about Pickett's habits, friends."

"I'm on it, Gibbs," Kate says.

"What about me, Boss?" I ask.  

Gibbs pats me on the shoulder.  "You, Tony, are coming with me.  We're going to have a look at Pickett's apartment."

"You and me?"  I ask hesitantly.  I love it when Gibbs and I work together.

"Yeah," he says exuberantly.  "Since you're wounded and vulnerable, you're gonna need me to make sure you don't get yourself shot.  Or skewer yourself on a thumbtack."  

Reluctantly, I break into a slight smile. "Funny, Boss."

*****

"So, we know he collected _fishing_ magazines," I announce, tossing a periodical onto the coffee table.

Gibbs glances at me.  "I fish," he says.

"And a great sport it is."  I walk over to the counter that separates Major Pickett's living room from his kitchen.  "I just don't understand why you'd want to read about it."

"He rode horses competitively," Gibbs says, motioning to an assortment of medals and plaques.  

I lift myself onto the counter, wincing at the pain in my hand.

Gibbs turns toward me.  "Watch it," he says.  "You're gonna tear your stitches."  He walks over to the counter and reaches for the phone that's sitting beside me.  He starts to scrutinize it.

"Oh, come on, Gibbs," I say.  "You actually think they'd bug his phone?"

"You never know," he says.  

I let out a long-suffering sigh.  "Wouldn't a spy check for bugs?"  I start to lean back on the balls of my hands, but then I feel a throbbing where the cut is.  Leaning forward, I start to swing my leg back and forth, hitting the wall every time my leg goes back.

"Stop it," Gibbs says after about five seconds.  

"What?" I ask.

He reaches down and places his hand on my knee.  "That," he says.

"Sorry."

He narrows his eyes.  "Are you still pouting because Kate said you're insecure?"

"I'm not pouting," I say.

"You're pouting."

"Whatever."

Gibbs leans against the counter.  "Listen to me," he says.  "You wouldn't be on this team if I didn't have confidence in you."

I nod.  "Yeah, I know Gibbs."  I jump down off the counter.  

"She was just kidding."

"Yeah, I know."

I sigh. Maybe he's right. If there's anybody in the world I'm close to, it's Gibbs.  Despite his gruffness, I'm pretty sure he cares about me.  He may not always be the nicest guy, but he's always been there for me when the chips are down.  

I walk across the room and start rifling through Pickett's garbage.  I really hope I don't find anything wet and gooey in here. 

Damn.  Something gooey. "Eyyuuck," I say.  

"What?"  
  
"Gum."  I keep digging though the trash.  Mostly papers.  Sticky notes.  I pull them out and spread them over the carpet.  "Nothing much, Boss."

"Keep looking."

I walk into Pickett's kitchen and wash my hands.  Then I walk over to Gibbs, who's finally given up the phone to look in Major Pickett's drawers.  I scan the counter, and my eyes finally fall on a pad of sticky notes.  Snatching up a nearby pencil, I shade the top sheet.

"Gibbs," I say.  

He walks over to me.  "Find something?"  

"I found a phone number.  It's not one he called."

"You actually remember the numbers he called?"

"He called, like, _four_ people."

Gibbs takes the sticky notes out of my hands and picks up the phone.  "Well, let's try it out."  Gibbs dials the number.  He listens for a moment, and then puts the phone back onto its cradle.  

"Well, who was it?"

"Answering machine.  We have reached the number of Thomas Rothwell."

"Okay."  I say, shrugging.  "Who's that?"

"Let's go find out."


	5. Forward

Title: Classified

Chapter 5

*****

"Dinozzo.  Stop touching everything."

"Sorry, Boss."

Thomas Rothwell turned out to be Admiral Thomas Rothwell, a highly-decorated Naval officer who is attached to the Pentagon.  Gibbs and I are standing in his office, waiting to meet the man himself.  

"Hey, Gibbs," I say.  "Is it true that the Navy makes the coffee here?"

Gibbs glares at me.  

Just then, an impressive-looking man walks into the room.  "Hello, gentlemen," he says, extending his hand.  "I'm Admiral Rothwell."

"Hello, Admiral." Gibbs says. "I'm Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, and this is Special Agent Tony Dinozzo. We're with NCIS." 

Admiral Rothwell plasters a smile on his face. "I usually don't get visits from NCIS, Agent Gibbs.  What can I do for you?"

"We're investigating the murder of a Marine.  Major Allen Pickett."

"Well, I don't know the man.  What can I do to help?"

I glance at Gibbs, wondering how up front we're going to be with this guy. 

Gibbs licks his lips.  "Well, Admiral, we found your number on a notepad at his house."

Pretty up front, apparently.

Rothwell doesn't flinch.  "Who'd he work for, Agent Gibbs?  Was he somebody's assistant?"

Gibbs smiles slightly. "We're still piecing all that together," he says.

"I have communications with all sorts of officers, Agent Gibbs.  Although the name doesn't ring a bell.  Perhaps he was trying to set up an appointment between me and his boss." Rothwell smiles pleasantly. "Whoever his boss might be."

"Actually, Admiral," I say.  "We found your _home_ number at Major Pickett's house."

"Do people usually call you at home to set up appointments?" Gibbs asks.

Rothwell exhales.  "I can't tell you that I know the man, Agent.  I'm sorry."

"Do you know why he'd have your home phone number?" I ask.

"No I don't, Agent Dinozzo."  He walks toward door.  "I do have several appointments, gentlemen.  I'm sorry, but I have to end this."

Gibbs nods.  "Well, we'll be in touch."

"What do you think, Boss?"  I ask as soon as we hit the parking lot.

"I think Rothwell knew exactly who Major Allen Pickett was," he says. 

*****

That evening, I pace in front of Gibbs' desk.  "Are you about done, Boss?"

Gibbs scowls at me.  He points at a chair.  "Dinozzo, sit down before I knock you down."

Frowning, I fall into the seat.  Our shift was up two hours ago.  Kate offered me a ride, but I'm still mad at her about earlier, so I turned it down.  Consequently, I'm stuck waiting for Mr. Anal Retentive to get finished with his paperwork.  Everyone else in the known universe is at home by now.  

After a few minutes, Gibbs places his pen in the pen-holder, and says, "All right.  We're done." Standing up, he heads briskly toward the door.  Then he turns to me and says, "Well, come on, Dinozzo.  I don't want to be here all night." 

As we walk through the deserted parking lot to Gibbs' car, I wonder fleetingly if Gibbs would want to grab a bite to eat.  I'm starving, because I skipped lunch.  I've been surviving all day on the two pieces of toast I had for breakfast and a candy bar I had after we left Admiral Rothwell. 

But at that moment, Gibbs pulls his gun. I follow suit, even though I don't see anything.  

"All right," he growls.  "Get out here where I can see you."

"Or what?"  says a familiar voice.  

Clayton Webb walks out of the shadows, still wearing the same cocky look on his face that he had when I met him.  But somehow, he looks a little more worn than he did earlier.  As a matter of fact, he looks downright exhausted.

"Webb," Gibbs says.  "Get your ass out here.  What the hell are you doing sneaking up on us?"

"He thinks in the middle of a mystery novel, Boss," I say.

"Shut up, Dinozzo," Gibbs says.  "Well?"

Webb sighs.  "I understand you paid a very damaging visit to Thomas Rothwell today."

"We did," Gibbs says.  "Want to tell us what the hell is going on?"

"You shouldn't have gone to see him."

"_You_ weren't telling us anything."

Webb lets out a breath, then he glances behind him, and I think I see him motion toward the shadows.  Suddenly, another person emerges, as if from thin air.  He's a little younger than Webb and he looks like he's of Mexican descent.  He's tall and good looking, if you like that sort of thing. 

"Agents Gibbs and Dinozzo," Webb says.  "This is Gunnery Sergeant Galindez.  He works with me."

 "A Marine?"  Gibbs asks.

"Semper Fi, Sir," Galindez says, handing Webb a file. 

Gibbs almost smiles.  "So, does this mean you're ready to trust us, Webb?"

"It's not about trust, Agent."  Webb glances furtively behind him, then at Galindez.  Finally, he takes a step forward.  "I recruited Allen a couple of years ago in Afghanistan. About that time, a friend of a friend approached that friend, and their friend approached me."

It's taking all of my self control not to make a snarky comment.

Webb continues, "They had suspicions that there was a leak in the Agency."

 "I'm listening," Gibbs says.

"Well, I had similar suspicions.  When I started comparing notes with this mutual friend, I started to see a pattern."

"Okay."

"Well," Webb glances over his shoulder again.  "That agent is dead now."

"The friend of a friend of a friend?" I ask.  

Gibbs shoots me a look.  Then he turns to Webb.  "So, how long ago did this agent die?"

"When I was . . . traveling in South America last year."  Webb runs his fingers through his hair.  "In any case, before she died, she found some . . . interesting information.  I had Allen checking into that information."

"Where does Rothwell fit in?" Gibbs asks.

Webb lets out a breath.  "I can't be sure.  But the other deceased agent?  She went to an event at Rothwell's house the evening she was killed."

"What connection does Rothwell have with the Agency?" I ask.

"None specifically."

"You said you suspect a leak in the Agency itself."

"Yes, Agent."  He glances at Galindez, then back to me.  This guy is so paranoid that if a car backfired, he'd probably have a stroke.

"Webb," Gibbs says.  "Do you have a suspect in the Agency?"  

 "I'm not willing to say right now.  But I'd appreciate you not stirring the hornet's nest.  No more visits to Rothwell."

"I'm not backing off on my investigation." Gibbs says.

Webb takes a step forward and shoves the file into Gibbs' hands.  "I didn't think you would," he grins.  "I'm asking you, Agent Gibbs.  Proceed with caution."  Then, he and Galindez turn to leave.


	6. Coming or Going

Title: Classified

Chapter 6

Spoilers: "Dead Man Talking," "Split Decision" And my author's notes might have spoilers for the season finale of _JAG_.

Author's Notes:

1) As I said earlier, I have not decided who—if anyone—Tony will wind up with. Tony seems drawn to Kate, and yet he also seems drawn to Gibbs…Hmm…

2) Regardless of what may or may not have happened during the season finale of _JAG_, I will continue this story, and Clayton Webb will play a big part. I'm hoping we'll find out that Clay lives next season, but regardless, he will continue to live in fanfic.

Warnings: This chapter will have a small mention of homosexuality. If that bothers you, you might want to skip this.

-----

Last night was a rotten night. After Webb's cloak-and-dagger routine, Gibbs wanted to spend the evening poring over the file Agent Wonderful gave him, so he dumped me unceremoniously at my apartment and drove off, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Not to mention hungry.

Usually, spending the evening alone doesn't bother me so much, but yesterday I was profoundly aware of how alone I really am. Sure, I have friends at work, but we don't hang out together that much. Unless you count murder investigations. And sure, I could probably go to a bar, flash a smile, and pick up some company, but what difference would that make? It's an ugly truth for me to face, but I don't think anyone really and truly cares about me.

So, I stayed up most of the night watching horror films and eating leftover chicken.

To make matters worse, Gibbs sent Kate to pick me up this morning. I wasn't given a vote in the matter. She just showed up at my doorstep.

Normally, I wouldn't mind Kate unexpectedly showing up at my apartment, but I'm still trying to be mad at her for teasing me yesterday.

So I'm sulking.

"Do we have to listen to this?" I say, slumped impatiently in the passenger seat.

"Stop whining," she says.

I plunge defiantly on. "Who listens to talk radio while they drive?"

"_I_ do."

"Yeah, you would," I say sarcastically.

Kate frowns at me. I know I'm being a little over-the-top today, and to be completely honest, I don't know why. Maybe I want Kate to realize how much she hurt me. Or maybe I want wallow because I know she was right about everything she said yesterday. Who knows?

When we pause at a red light, she turns to me, and says, "Do you want to swing by a donut shop or something?"

I shrug, trying to be uncooperative. "Whatever."

The light changes, and so we start driving again. As we round a corner, she tugs at her bottom lip. "Okay, well, we can do donuts or a breakfast sandwich…"

Trying to ignore how endearing Kate looks when she's tugging at her bottom lip, I say, "Donuts are fine."

She turns to me like she's going to say something, but then she changes her mind, and we drive in silence until we reach the donut shop.

-----

You've got to love chocolate.

My mother once told me that chocolate can cure almost anything that's wrong in your life, so I've decided to test the theory by ordering hot chocolate with chocolate shavings and a chocolate donut. I'm feeling better already. I think Mom might be on to something.

Kate chuckles. "What's wrong, Tony? Did you get your heart broken?"

"What?" I ask, dunking my donut into my hot chocolate.

"You're drowning your sorrows in chocolate," she says matter-of-factly.

Licking whipped cream off the rim of my mug, I say quietly, "What sorrows do I have?"

She closes her hands around a coffee-filled mug and gazes at me. "Did something happen with Gibbs last night?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She shrugs. "He's been kind of…high strung lately. I thought he might've jumped down your throat for something."

I shake my head. "Did he tell you about Webb's visit last night?"

She scoots forward in her seat. "No. No, what happened?"

"Well," I say. "Webb showed up acting like a refugee from an old '60s spy series. He gave Gibbs some secret file and disappeared into the shadows."

"What was in the file?"

"Beats me. Gibbs dropped me off, and then went back to the office to look through it." I lick my lips and take a swig of hot—now lukewarm—chocolate. "I, however, spent the evening alone watching old slasher films."

"Poor Tony," she smirks. "Why didn't you call the woman of the week? Or is the well dry?"

"The well is better than ever, Kate. But I'm not looking for a woman right now."

She raises her eyebrows. "I knew the make-out session with Voss left you a little conflicted, but I didn't know it turned you off on women completely."

Stinging from Kate's words, I just stare at her, not sure what to say. I don't know why, but our usually friendly-banter has been a little acidic lately. Kate's been on me about the Voss thing ever since it happened. I want to drop it, forget it ever happened, but Kate seems determined to dredge it up whenever she wants to hit me hard. The problem is, I don't know why it bugs me so much.

Closing my fist tight around my balled-up napkin, I snap, "You have a problem with men dating men Kate?" .

Kate cocks her head at me, and guilt washes over her face. "Listen, Tony. If I hurt you, I'm sorry. I was teasing. We tease each other all the time."

"You're hitting below the belt," I say accusingly. "And you never answered my question. Do you have a problem with men dating men?"

"No," she says a little too quickly, "I don't have a problem with that."

"You sound like it," I say.

"Tony," she says. "I didn't mean to imply anything. It's just…"

"You keep bringing up the Voss thing," I sputter.

"I'm sorry. "Really, I'm sorry."

"I've got a lot going on in my life right now. I don't know whether I'm coming or going," I say. "I don't need this to think about, too."

Kate reaches across the table and places a hand on my shoulder. "Tony, I didn't realize this was bothering you." She kneads the muscle a little, and then stills her hand, waiting for me to say something.

I bite my bottom lip. "Can we just drop it?"

"Yeah," she says, sounding relieved. "We should get to work."

"Yeah," I say. "Let's go see what kind of bone Webb threw Gibbs."


End file.
